


Heat Wave

by Inell



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Affectionate Name Calling, Anal Sex, Bottom Jackson Whittemore, Established Relationship, First Time Together, Future Fic, Hot Weather, M/M, Oral Sex, Romance, Sweat, Top Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-17 07:47:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5860318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inell/pseuds/Inell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jackson and Stiles have been dating for a couple of months now. They take their relationship to the next level on a hot summer night during a heat wave.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heat Wave

**Author's Note:**

  * For [distant-teenagers](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=distant-teenagers).



> For distant-teenagers' prompt: I like 27 or 33 for the trope prompts? Or both, if you would like to mix them. Stackson or Sciles? :) [Hot weather, First time together]
> 
> & for Anonymous: Are you still taking prompts? Because I would love some fluffy stackson?

The hot summer sun has been the source of several problems during the heat wave that’s been hitting Beacon Hills and all of northern California this year. There have been more assaults in the last week than there have been in the last three months. It’s kept the station hopping, and Stiles is definitely ready for his days off now that they’ve come around. The only problem is that the air conditioning in his house has been broken for two days, and he hasn’t been able to get it fixed yet. Every place he calls has a backlog of business due to the unusually hot weather, and he can’t afford the ridiculous fee they want to charge to move him forward on the list.

Fortunately, he’s got ceiling fans in most of his rooms, and he has a fan in the back of his Jeep that he borrowed from Jordan. When he gets home, his uniform is sticking to his sweaty body, and he doesn’t even have a cold house to look forward to, which sucks. A wave of suffocating heat greets him as he opens his front door. Maybe he should just grit his teeth and find somewhere else to stay until the A/C is fixed? No, he really doesn’t want to deal with his dad or any of his friends right now, not after the work week he’s had, so he’ll just make it through this heat wave.

The best thing to do is get naked and take a shower. He unbuttons his uniform shirt and shrugs the damp shirt off his shoulders, tossing it in the laundry hamper before untying his boots. His pants and undershirt soon follow his uniform shirt into the hamper. Wearing just his underwear, he goes into the master bathroom and turns on the shower. He pushes his underwear down, letting them pool around his ankles, then steps beneath the cold spray. Damn, it feels so good. Refreshing even if it is ridiculously cold.

Reaching for the shampoo, he squirts some into his palm then rubs his hands together, working the lather into his hair. It’s nice to rinse the sweat and sticky grossness off his skin and out of his hair, even if he knows he’s probably going to be living in the shower during the next couple of days. After he washes his hair, he soaps up his body and lets the spray rinse the suds off his bare skin. Since the water is so cold, he isn’t going to even attempt doing his usual shower jerk off, so he finishes up pretty quickly.

Stepping out of the shower is not so fun. Stiles drags his towel over his wet skin and gets the worst of the water out of his hair before he wraps the towel around his waist. The house is too stifling to even breathe, so he’s got to open some windows before it gets any worse. There isn’t any kind of breeze outside, but fresh air has to help. It’s not like it can make things worse. His two bedroom house isn’t all that big, but it’s plenty of space for him, and there are enough windows to help ease some of the whole ‘I’m going to suffocate from heat’ feeling in the air.

There’s sweat already dripping down is back just from that little bit of exertion, and Stiles wonders if he can blame the heat for just ordering in the next two days and not doing anything except lying on the sofa watching Netlfix. He could totally get into a Marvel TV series marathon, after all, and not moving sounds pretty good right now. With that thought in mind, he goes to the kitchen to grab a takeout menu off the fridge on his way back to the bedroom. He’s halfway down the hall when he hears his doorbell ring. Seriously? He isn’t expecting anyone, so he’s annoyed at having his sulking in a hot house mood interrupted by a visitor.

Stiles doesn’t even bother putting clothes on. If someone wants to drop in without warning, they can deal with him in a towel. When he opens the door, he wishes he’d taken time to grab a pair of shorts or even some underwear. “Jackson, what are you doing here?”

“You invited me. Remember?” Jackson drawls, his gaze moving down Stiles’ mostly naked body in a lazy way that makes Stiles feel like he’s being touched. “Rather forward, isn’t it?”

“No, actually, I don’t,” he admits, reaching up to tug on his damp hair as he thinks about his last conversation with Jackson. “Last time we spoke, you had to go to San Francisco for business and didn’t think you’d be back until next week. And stop leering. This isn’t for you.”

“And you said that you’d be off Thursday and Friday this week, so we could get together at your place Wednesday night if I made it home in time,” Jackson points out. “It’s Wednesday evening, and ta da. I made it home early.” His blue eyes suddenly narrow. “If you weren’t expecting me, then who were you planning to surprise by wearing a towel?”

“Don’t growl and go flashy eyes on me, puppy.” Stiles rolls his eyes even as his lips curve into an affectionate smile that he never, ever, ever expected to have on his lips due to Jackson fucking Whittemore. “Come on in. It’s hot as hell, but I was planning on ordering Chinese for dinner and streaming some Netflix. Since you’re here, you can phone in the order. You know what I like.”

“Good grief, Stiles. It’s stifling in here.” Jackson makes a face. “I don’t hear your air conditioning working. Why isn’t it turned on? If you couldn’t pay your bill, you know you could have asked me for the money. We might be dating now, but we’re still pack.”

“I can pay my bills, asshole. My A/C unit broke a couple of days ago, and they haven’t had a chance to come fix it yet.” Stiles shrugs. “It’ll cool off now that it’s getting dark, I reckon.”

Jackson rubs the bridge of his nose as he shakes his head. “You should have called me. I’d have had someone out to fix it immediately. You’re too proud sometimes.”

“I’ve been working doubles anyway, so I’m exhausted by the time I get home to sleep. It hasn’t been that many days, and forgive me for thinking it’s weird to ask the man I’ve just recently started dating to take care of my A/C problem.” Stiles crosses his arms in front of his chest. “It isn’t pride, Jackson.”

“Would you go put some clothes on?” Jackson mutters, staring at his nipples then lower to where the towel is hanging loosely on his hips. “I can’t think when there’s only a towel between you and nudity.”

“Order us dinner,” Stiles tells him as he turns to head to his bedroom. He and Jackson have been dating for nearly two months now, and they’ve both been taking it slow on the physical front because of past relationships and personal trauma. For the last few weeks, they’ve reached the make out stage, grinding against each other like a couple of horny teenagers. Stiles is actually ready to take the next step, knows that he and Jackson strangely work together in a way that he likes even if they’re both assholes, but it’s not something he’s going to plan out or force as a topic of discussion. Still, when he pulls on his underwear and an old pair of shorts, he deliberately doesn’t put on a shirt. Sometimes nature needs a little assistance when it comes to things happening naturally, and Stiles is a real helpful guy.

When he goes back to the living room, Jackson has taken off his suit coat and his long sleeve shirt. He’s wearing form fitting black pants that make his ass look amazing and a sleeveless undershirt. The television is already on the Netflix menu, and he’s got the screen open for Sense8. At Stiles’ arched brow, he shrugs. “I haven’t seen it yet, and you and Kira are always talking about it. Food will be here in fifteen. Also, do you not own any shirts?”

“Why? Does my muscular torso distract you, Jackson?” Stiles grins. “It’s the moles, isn’t it? I always knew you had a thing for them.”

“No, I’m actually blinded by all that paleness.” Jackson covers his eyes before sitting on the sofa and pouting. “It’s too hot.”

“Hot damn.” Stiles waits a beat then sighs. “My pop culture references are so often wasted on you.”

“It’s because we’re twenty-six years old, not fifteen. I am a mature adult who doesn’t spend my free time trolling the internet looking for the latest memes and puppy videos.” Jackson sniffs as if the very thought of it is beneath him.

“Mature my ass. Wasn’t it you who was throwing water balloons at Scott and Isaac just last week?” Stiles nudges him when he sits down as close as he can get without actually being on his lap. It’s too hot for this, but he wants to be tempting, so it’s a sacrifice worth making. 

“Only in retaliation for the water gun incident.” Jackson glances at him and arches a brow. “Close enough?”

“Never close enough to you,” Stiles simpers with a fluttering of her eyelashes. It results in Jackson shoving him away with a snort.

“We should have just gone to my place. I _have_ working air conditioning.” He pulls at the leg of his slacks and makes a face. “I’m getting sweat in areas I don’t ever want to have sweat.”

“You can take ‘em off, if you want.” Stiles punches his arm when Jackson gives him a look. “While I do want to get you naked so I can have my wicked way with you, that’s not why I made the suggestion. You look miserable, and you get cranky when you’re hot and sweaty due to something other than making out or playing competitive sports.”

“Hmph. As if it won’t be me having my wicked way with you,” Jackson mutters even as he gets to his feet. “Don’t enjoy this too much, Stiles.”

“Oh baby. Oh baby,” Stiles deadpans even as he leans forward to watch the show. “Do you want me to put on some music? Shake it for me, baby.”

“I’m going to kill you one of these days,” Jackson growls as he unfastens his belt then his pants. Despite the earlier teasing, Stiles licks his lips as he hears the zipper being lowered. Sure, he’s been around Jackson half naked before, even seen him totally naked, but not since they’ve actually become a _they_. Jackson does make a show of it, of course, the cheeky bastard, and he slowly pushes the pants down his muscular legs. When he steps out of them and leans down to pick them up, his ass cheeks flex, and the snug boxer-briefs pull even tighter across his firm cheeks.

Stiles raises his hand and reaches forward, wanting to touch, but his hand is slapped away. Jackson smirks at him when he glances up. “What? I should be able to touch,” Stiles whines before thrusting out his bottom lip. Jackson turns to face him, and he becomes distracted by the bulge pressing against the front of his underwear. His lips part as he considers offering a blow job to help Jackson relax, shifting on the sofa at the thought of finally tasting Jackson.

“I’m feeling so objectified right now,” Jackson points out more than a little smugly as he pulls his undershirt over his head. He flexes and preens, making Stiles eventually roll his eyes instead of drool.

“You’re obviously feeling cooler, dickhead.” Stiles leans against the sofa. “Get me a bottle of cold water before you sit down, pleeeeease?”

“You just want to watch my ass while I walk into the kitchen.” Jackson does go get him water, and he does watch his ass with an appreciative stare. Stiles almost doesn’t catch the water when it’s tossed at him, and Jackson just laughs. “Food’s here. I just heard the car door slamming.”

“Ugh. Now you’re being mean and making me get up to answer the door,” Stiles groans, scratching at his lower belly as he stretches.

“Don’t bother. I’m already up.” Jackson winks when Stiles gapes at him and answers the door wearing only his tight underwear. The delivery guy looks shocked, with good reason, but he also looks interested, as if he’s somehow wandered into a real life porn film. Jackson is unimpressed and quickly pays before shutting the door. “Creep.”

“Pot, kettle. You answered the door in your underwear, Jackson. It’s not his fault he’s got eyes and a healthy sex drive.” Stiles makes grabby hands at the bag of good smelling food. “Now feed me. I’m hungry.”

Jackson sits down and opens the bag, handing two cartons to Stiles along with a pair of chopsticks. He puts the eggrolls between them on the sofa because they always share those. When they’re settled in with the food, Stiles starts the show. He’s already seen it several times since it debuted years ago, and he likes every season, but he’s going to be interested in seeing Jackson’s reaction. The food is delicious, and he really is starving after a long day at work without lunch, so he quickly eats everything and is soon poking at Jackson for bites of his food. Jackson rolls his eyes but shares anyway because he’s mature like that now.

By the second episode, the food cartons are tossed into the bag on the floor by the sofa. Stiles is leaning against Jackson despite the hot house, their sweat slick skin sticking together as they watch. It’s too hot to cuddle, really, but he doesn’t much care when the alternative is to not have Jackson’s mostly naked body against his. When the fourth episode ends, Jackson picks up the remote and stops the show. “Tired?” Stiles asks, raising his head and looking at him.

“Not really.” Jackson shifts, leaning over to press their lips together. Stiles returns the kiss, stroking Jackson’s back as he’s pushed against the sofa. Their kisses are languid, slow and deep, both of them too hot and too tired to kiss with any sense of urgency. Jackson’s thigh is firm when he pushes it between Stiles’ legs, and Stiles bucks up in search of friction. 

It’s too damn hot, though. He pulls back from the kisses and stares up at Jackson. “We should move this to my room. I have a fan in there, so it’ll be cooler. More space, too.”

Jackson strokes his cheek, knuckles tracing the curve of his jaw. “You sure?” His voice is slightly breathless, obviously into the idea, and Stiles appreciates him wanting to make certain Stiles is ready before they take this next step in their relationship.

“I’m sure,” he says, leaning up for a kiss before shoving at Jackson. “Get off me. You’re like a damn heater.”

“You can just say I’m hot and I won’t hold it against you.” Jackson rolls off the sofa and picks up Stiles like he doesn’t weigh anything. Stiles squawks and slaps Jackson’s firm ass as he turns off the television then walks down the hall.

“I can walk, you know?” Stiles squeezes his ass this time instead of slapping it, which earns him a sharp swat on his ass. “This whole Me Strong Werewolf, You Weak Human thing isn’t a turn on.”

“Lie.” Jackson is grinning. Stiles can’t see him, but he _knows_ he’s grinning. Stiles yelps when he’s tossed onto his bed. Jackson turns on the light and the fan before he crawls onto the bed. “You like being manhandled. Always have.”

“Maybe a little,” he reluctantly admits as he holds up his thumb and forefinger slightly apart. When Jackson looks unimpressed, he stretches them further apart. “Don’t be smug, asshole.”

“Who? Me?” Jackson crawls between his legs. “So, how do we want to do this?”

“I’m versatile, so it doesn’t really matter to me.” Stiles reaches down to stroke Jackson’s lips. “Sure you’re ready for this? There’s no going back once we do the deed.”

“Do the deed?” Jackson huffs a laugh. “My boyfriend’s such a romantic. And, yes, I’m ready. I was giving you time, asshole.”

“Talk about romance.” Stiles snickers before he tries to get serious. “I’ve got lube and condoms. Do you even need condoms since you’re all grr? I’ve never had sex with a were before.”

“I don’t need them for disease, and I, uh, prefer the mess,” he admits, ducking his head down to place an open mouth kiss against Stiles’ chest. “Your choice, though. I’m clean, haven’t had sex with anyone since I came back to Beacon Hills.”

“Because you started pining for meeee,” Stiles teases softly, brushing his fingers through Jackson’s thick hair. The air from the fan is cool, causing his damp skin to pucker into goosebumps, but it’s still so hot that the cool only lasts for so long before he’s just cool-hot. “It’s been over two years for me, and you’d probably be able to smell if I had anything anyway.”

“I want to bottom,” Jackson announces suddenly, looking up at him with wide eyes. “I mean, if that’s okay with you?”

“It’s more than okay with me.” Stiles smiles at him, really glad that Jackson felt comfortable enough to admit what he prefers doing tonight. First times are always a little awkward when it isn’t a quick blow job or hand job in a club bathroom. First times in a relationship that could very well be a serious grow old together and adopt kids when we’re a lot more mature are even more nerve wracking, he’s finding. He’s never really done them before, not the way he feels whenever he’s with Jackson, and it’s causing just a little anxiety.

Jackson leans down to kiss him at the same time Stiles leans up, and they end up bumping their heads together. Stiles just laughs as Jackson tries again, his mouth stifling the laughter as they kiss. They have to get used to each other, figure out what works best, get their own rhythm, and it takes several bumps, grunts, and even a curse or two before they’re finally arranged comfortably. Stiles shorts are on the floor, leaving them both in their underwear, and he’s enjoying the chance to grind against Jackson without all the clothes getting in the way. Sweat slick skin doesn’t actually glide that well, more like sticks and causes a weird feeling, but they quickly adjust and just ignore it.

When Jackson starts kissing his way down Stiles’ neck and lower, he licks his lips because he knows what’s about to happen. He raises his hips when Jackson pulls down his underwear, his dick flopping out and poking Jackson in the face. Stiles bites his lip to keep from snickering but he isn’t quick enough. Jackson gives him a warning look that promises retribution but in a sexy way so Stiles doesn’t really care all that much. Instead, he wiggles just enough to make his dick sway to distract Jackson from grumbling threats. It works. Jackson is soon gripping his dick and licking the head, pinning him to the bed with his shoulders to avoid having Stiles thrust up, most likely. Or maybe he just likes pinning him.

“Suck it,” Stiles whines after far too long (at least five minutes!) of teasing licks and smirking Jackson. “Come on, Jackson. Suck my dick.”

“What’s the magic word?” Jackson lightly ghosts the tip of his tongue across the head.

“Now, asshole.” Stiles bucks up but can’t get far when he’s pinned down by a muscular werewolf. Damn it.

“The _other_ magic word, dumbass.” Jackson strokes his fingers up and down Stiles’ dick twice before gripping it firmly. He gives Stiles a challenging look that makes him groan.

“Fine. _Please_ suck my dick.” Stiles barely gets the words out before Jackson is taking his length in his mouth. His tongue is swirling and driving Stiles crazy already. Jackson starts sucking, his cheeks hollowing out, his head moving up and down as his hand grips the base to hold it still. Stiles is clenching his fingers in the blanket, gasping when it’s a particularly forceful suck, rolling his hips more now that Jackson isn’t pinning him down. He bucks up too soon, sending his dick into Jackson’s throat. “Sorry. Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“Try not to kill me.” Jackson is still coughing and wipes the back of his hand across his swollen lips. “My jaw’s sore. You’re so thick.” He’s jerking Stiles’ dick as he talks, which feels really good.

“If you keep that up, I’m gonna come before I can fuck your ass,” he warns, tugging on Jackson’s hair. “We should switch places, let me get you ready.”

Jackson’s eyes seem to glaze over for a moment before he’s nodding. “Yeah, that sounds…fuck, it sounds good.”

They switch places, Stiles getting an elbow in the gut and accidentally kneeing Jackson in the thigh as they move around on his bed. He might have to upgrade to a king. They kiss again before Stiles moves down Jackson’s body, kissing and licking and stroking every bit of flesh he can reach. Jackson tosses the bottle of lube to him, hitting him in the nose and snorting a laugh when Stiles give him an unimpressed look. He flips the top and squirts some into his hand before moving his fingers between Jackson’s cheeks. When he slowly begins to use his fingers to get him loose, he starts sucking Jackson’s dick.

The noise Jackson makes when Stiles manages to take him all the way into his mouth is amazing. A strangled whine that he wants to hear again. He doesn’t do it again because it’s a cool trick but he’s not a porn star so it eventually makes him gag. It’s best used sparingly. Jackson doesn’t seem to mind as he pushes down against Stiles’ hand, fucking his fingers, eyes flashing blue and fangs falling when Stiles adds a third finger. When he’s loose enough that it shouldn’t hurt to fuck, Stiles lets his dick fall out of his mouth with a pop.

“Ready?” He moves up to his knees, spreading Jackson’s legs and brushing the head of his dick against Jackson’s hole.

“Fuck me, Stiles,” Jackson growls, pushing down towards him.

“Uh uh. What’s the magic word?” he teases, watching Jackson sneer and writhe on his bed. It’s still so fucking hot, skin sticking together and sweaty all over hot, but neither of them are caring that much about the temperature right now.

“Please,” he snarls, bucking up and almost kneeing Stiles’ in the face.

Stiles gives him what his dad refers to as his shit eating grin as he starts to push his dick into Jackson’s ass. The grin doesn’t last long when tight heat is suddenly clenching around him. Holy fuck, that feels awesome. Jackson is panting as Stiles slowly fucks in and out, pushing more of his dick inside until he’s fully seated. He leans down for a kiss, nuzzling Jackson’s mouth as he gives him time to adjust. When Jackson starts rolling his hips, Stiles pulls back and fucks him deep. They figure out works for them, Jackson likes teasing followed by hard and deep, and Stiles is soon fucking him like they’ve been doing this forever.

Jackson is pulling his hair and scratching his back. Is that claws? There better not be any blood. They kiss as they fuck, Stiles reaching between them to jerk Jackson’s dick when he feels his orgasm starting to build. It doesn’t take many strokes before Jackson is whining and coming on his hand. Stiles keeps stroking his dick until he’s spent, letting it go and moving come covered fingers to grip Jackson’s leg. He changes his angle slightly, wearing a gasp from both of them because this is perfect. He starts fucking faster, his hips snapping forward unconsciously, seeking his release. He comes with a grunt, almost falling forward on Jackson but managing to catch himself as he keeps bucking his hips.

They stay that way for a while before he pulls out of Jackson’s ass and rolls off the bed. He goes into his bathroom to get a wet washcloth, wiping himself down before going back to the bed to clean up Jackson. “You okay?” he asks, biting his lower lip because Jackson hasn’t said anything. He’s just lying there breathing heavily and looking fucked out.

“Never been better,” he says simply, looking at Stiles and smiling a real smile, just a slight twist of lips that reaches his eyes.

“Me too,” Stiles admits, cleaning the come off Jackson then using the clean part of the cloth to wipe up some of the sweat. After he’s done, he tosses the rag on the floor to put in the hamper later. He snuggles up against Jackson, not even caring that it’s like cuddling a fucking heater in the middle of a fire.

“Tomorrow, I’m calling and paying them to come fix your air,” Jackson mutters, pulling Stiles closer. “No arguing.”

Stiles smiles and tilts his head for a kiss. “I won’t. Not this time, at least.”

Jackson huffs a laugh, his tone affectionate when he says, “Smartass.”

Stiles kisses him then whispers against his mouth, “Asshole.”

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [Tumblr](http://inell.tumblr.com)!


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